Padfoot's Boy
by Little-Hufflepuff
Summary: At the tender age of seven Harry is kidnapped by Azkaban escapee, Sirius Black. How will the fugitive raise a disobedient child when he is on the run from the wizarding world? Corporal punishment. Bonding. Fluff. Slight angst. Sirius/Remus side relationship. Sirius/Remus raise Harry. Powerful!Sirius. Daddyfigure!Sirius. Daddyfigure!Remus.
1. The Escape of Black

**Summary:** At the tender age of seven Harry is kidnapped by Azkaban escapee, Sirius Black. How will the fugitive raise a disobedient child when he is on the run from the wizarding world? Corporal punishment. Bonding. Fluff. Slight angst. Sirius/Remus side relationship. Powerful!Sirius. Daddyfigure!Sirius. Daddyfigure!Remus.

* * *

 **-Padfoot's Boy-**

 **-Chapter ONE: The Escape of Black-**

* * *

It was a stupid notion to think stone walls and Dementors could hold him. Sirius Black almost laughed out loud at the perception that he was some weakened, shell of a man. Perhaps he did laugh; it was hard to tell when the sound of iron scraping against rock was deafening his hearing.

The tall wizard stood straight-backed in the middle of his Azkaban chamber, his wand arm reaching out towards the gate that held in him. He had no wand, and really, he didn't need one. His magical energy hadn't been dampened by six years confined in Azkaban. In fact, it grew stronger, impatient with nonuse. It bubbled under the surface, burning in his veins and making his skin itch with the desire to use it.

It wasn't uncommon for a wizard or witch who had abstained from performing magic to lose control when they finally did so. Sirius chuckled under his breath. They were weak. Only the weak lost control. Six years of not using his magic and he was as controlled as could be.

Energy flowed from his fingertips, directed fully at the iron gate ahead of him. It wouldn't be long until the gate was completely loose and he could get out of the dank, shadowed chamber.

Wandless magic was a difficult thing to master; many influential wizards and witches never got the basics of such magic. Sirius's talent for casting wandless magic had started early in life, and he had grown to become very powerful at wielding the rare form of magic control.

The prisoner gritted his teeth, firmly keeping his jaw clenched as he stared intently at the opening gate. He could have spelled it open with Bombarda Maxima had he been in possession of his wand. Wandless magic was worked differently and didn't always perform in the same manner. It was unpredictable and wild.

The gate crunched and the sound ripped vociferously through the otherwise silent prison. Sirius allowed himself a grimace and hoped the Dementors would not double back on their rounds to investigate the noise. Deciding to move quickly the wizard dropped his arm, panting from the effort of taking down the wards surrounding his chamber. A thrill danced up his spine at finally being able to release his pent-up magic. It felt good.

Sparing a look at the cramped chamber Sirius glared, he wouldn't miss Azkaban in the least. Running from the chamber that had held him for six years of his life Sirius entered the labyrinth of corridors. Prisoners who were somewhat sane called to him, pleading to be let out of their holding cells. Sirius paid no mind. He had been wrongly committed to this place, but many hadn't and he wasn't about to set free anyone who was in line with the man who ordered his best friend dead.

James. It seemed forever since Sirius had allowed his thoughts to dwell on his friend. It was too painful, and he knew better than to allow depressing thoughts to crowd his mind, it'd be a sure fire way to attract the Dementors to him. He knew Peter was still out there, probably in line with the Dark Lord by now. A faithful servant. Sneering and revealing his teeth Sirius resisted growling, he'd deal with the rat once he was free, but first he had some business to take care of.

It was his Animagus side, his dog side that he had relied on while being in Azkaban. It had kept him sane – or as close to as possible. He wasn't the same man who had entered the large, secluded building. His thoughts were far more morbid and he knew he had lost his empathy somewhat.

Shaking off his thoughts he continued quickly down the hallway. His footfalls were echoing and his harsh breathing attracting attention from inmates.

Passing a vocal woman who was beating her bloodied fists against the bars and screaming something about her children Sirius took a steadying breath and morphed cleanly and quickly into the form of a large black dog. It would be easier to sneak passed the Dementors in his Animagus form. Not that Sirius doubted his ability to take down the guards. Morphing was more a tact of dealing with the emotions surrounding James and Lily's death. His dog side also sensed the way out. The salty, pungent smell of ocean water was a sure sign he was close to the outer walls of Azkaban.

He always loved the feeling of freedom that came with being the big dog. His body felt stronger and he could run quicker. Shaking himself Sirius ruffled his shaggy fur before leaping forwards; bounding across the damp, cold floor so rapidly his paws barely touched the ground.

His eye sight was excellent and he could spot the shadowy forms of the Dementors from yards away. This was helpful and he dodged them easily. Avoiding any run-ins that could slow his escape. The shouts and moans of the prisoners were slowly lessening and growing faint to his sensitive ears, and he knew he was leaving the maze of Azkaban behind and drawing nearer to his escape.

It was one call in particular that slowed his running. The call was hoarse and faint, however, he picked up on it easily. Something about the voice was familiar and Sirius stopped in the hallway, turning his head to look back at a lone cell, stationed away from all the others. It was odd to see a cell this close to the exit. A dangerous wizard perhaps? No, every one of the people in Azkaban was dangerous.

The same guttural voice spoke up again and Sirius's ears twitched up at the words, "Padfoot, is – is that you?" crouching low to the ground and dragging his belly against the solid floor Sirius approached the single cell. His nose was sniffing and trying to catch the scent of the man who had spoken.

When he did he froze, standing so still his dark coat blended in with his surroundings. It couldn't be? There was no logical reason for it to be who he thought. None whatsoever. And yet the scent was there, masked by the stench of sweat and urine, but unmistakable.

"Remus?" Sirius said as he morphed back into his human form. The cold air of Azkaban once more assaulted his skin and the cold dread that settled over the place like an ominous rain cloud smothered him. He pushed aside the thoughts and feelings that went along with the Dementors presence and carefully approached the cell.

Behind the rusting bars sat huddled a thin man, skeletal almost, with bones sticking out of his body shockingly. Sirius's eyes drank in the sallow cheeks and the dirty and mattered sandy hair that lay limp around the man's face. The sickly pallor to the prisoner's skin made him look near to death. It was grey and dull. It was obvious he had been in Azkaban for just as long as Sirius.

"Is that you, Padfoot?" the man whispered. His sunken eyes scouted the room, unseeing until they focused directly on Sirius. Swallowing down the thickness in his throat Sirius placed his hands around the bars, leaning against them as he stared at the man before him.

"My god, Remus. What have they done to you?" he whispered back, just as quietly as Remus had. A cold, empty chuckle burst from Remus's dry lips and he slumped forward, his eyes still locked on Sirius.

It was surreal to be face to face with his friend under such circumstances. The last person Sirius had expected to see locked up in Azkaban was Remus Lupin. "You are escaping?" Remus said and it sounded like a question. Sirius nodded.

"I have to find someone." He replied. Remus shifted and it appeared it took the man's entire strength to crawl forward on his hands and knees. Sirius was unsure if Remus was aware of the circumstances of him being sent to Azkaban – did he still believe that Sirius really had betrayed James and Lily? He didn't finish the rest of his sentence and tell Remus he was looking for Harry. Not when he didn't know how the man would react.

"Why are you in here, Remus? What happened?" he settled on asking. Remus coughed wetly and stared up at Sirius. His honey-coloured eyes were darkened and it reminded Sirius that Remus was a werewolf. Had he been forced to turn in his cell? Forced to endure the change alone? Somewhere in the back of Sirius's mind he felt pity for his old friend.

"I fought to have you released, thought if I could get Peter and show the Ministry they would uncover the truth,"

Sirius's heart leapt into his throat, pulsing against his skin. "You believe me?"

"Yes," affirmed Remus. Sirius felt he should be feeling relief or happiness, but years locked up in Azkaban had dampened his emotions. He felt lost as to how to express such feelings. So he just stared at Remus, watching the weak and frail man attempt to stand up. "He's been in hiding. Bastard made an anonymous tip-off to the Ministry, said Remus Lupin was after him, claimed that I was trying to turn him."

"And the Ministry didn't realize they were talking to Peter?" Sirius furrowed his brows.

"No, went under an alias. Didn't think he had it in him. I was arrested and trialed. They couldn't prove I did it, but prejudice against werewolves ensured I was sentenced regardless."

Remus held onto the bars, his hands slipping against the flaking rust. His eyes were locked with Sirius's so intently that the young Black had to drop his gaze.

"How long –"

"Five years." Remus supplied before Sirius had time to finish his sentence. Sirius took in a sharp inhalation through his nose and ran his hand through his long hair.

"Fuck, one year after I went in." he stated to himself, Remus just nodded and coughed once again. The man wasn't in good health, it didn't take a healer to know that much. "I – I thought," Sirius trailed off and chewed the inside of his cheek, unsure how to word his question. At the steady gaze of Remus, he jerked his hair out of his face. Remus was on his side. He could bring up the subject he wanted to.

Placing his hands back on to the bars Sirius licked his chapped lips, "I thought Harry was meant to be under your guardianship." It wasn't a question, more of a comment than anything else but Remus replied quietly.

"He was. I looked after him for six months before Peter's tip-off to the Ministry. He was taken out of my custody. Sent to live with his relatives. Lily's sister."

It was a wonder the Ministry actually allowed Remus to take Harry. The laws against werewolves were strict, but it was specified in Lily and James's will that if Sirius was unable to raise Harry, then Remus would be given the child.

Staring at the grimy floor Sirius sighed, "I failed him." He said shortly.

Harry was his Godson, Lily and James had trusted Sirius to look after him if anything happened to them, and Sirius had landed himself in prison not a week after their death. It hurt Sirius to think about such events, hurt more than he thought it could, considering his emotions were pushed to the side, smothered by his time in Azkaban.

Remus was silent. He didn't refute what Sirius had said; instead he lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips against Sirius's fingers around the bars. The gesture was so sudden it took the Black completely by surprise. It was so long since he had touched or been touched by another person that the small offering of comfort made his skin prickle with warmth.

"You can make it up to him." Remus finally said and Sirius's resolve was hardened instantaneously. His escape mission burst to the forefront of his mind once more. He'd make up his promise to James and Lily and he'd give Harry a home. A proper one.

Straightening up he stepped a few paces back, "Stand aside," he ordered. Remus flashed him a puzzled look but obliged and moved back into the darkness of his cell. "I'm breaking you out with me." It hadn't been something Sirius had planned on – finding Remus was not something he had planned on, however, he wasn't about to leave the werewolf in this place. Not when he had confessed to believing Sirius and attempted to help him.

Closing his eyes, the wizard collected his magic, drawing it from deep within and bringing it to the surface. His body tingled as the magic consumed him, caressing his skin and collecting around him like a soft wind.

Focusing all his attention on the cell in front of him Sirius snapped open his eyes and released his magic at the bars, willing it to smash the iron to pieces. A rush of gold light suddenly surrounded the cell, bright and shimmering in the dark prison. Remus shut his eyes against the light, shielding his face with his arms as the magical energy pulsed and danced. Sirius watched, waiting for the moment his spell broke through the iron.

The sound of creaking metal was the only warning the men got before the cell shuddered and burst open, sending rubble and iron flying into the air. The force of the magic propelled Sirius backwards into the wall, he grunted as his body smashed against the hard stone and fell to the floor.

"You're still doing wandless magic I see." Remus said dryly from the now ruined cell. Sirius groaned and got to his feet, rubbing at the back of his head he smirked. He loved feeling so powerful.

"You'll attract attention," he noted, looking Remus up and down, "but I can ward off any Dementors." Sirius made to morph back into his Animagus when a hand to his shoulder stopped him, he looked at Remus in query.

"Thanks, Sirius."

Sirius shrugged off the gratitude and Remus's hand. "Don't thank me yet. We still have to get out of this place and even then an ocean stands in our way."

It didn't matter that they were so far away from Harry, Sirius vowed to get to the boy regardless of the trouble. Morphing into his Animagus Sirius narrowed his eyes and readied himself for the last effort of his escape.

 _I'm coming Harry._


	2. The Man With The Twig

**A/N:** Thank you for the people who took the time to leave me a review, follow, and favourite. I adore each and every one of you!

* * *

 **-Padfoot's Boy-**

 **-Chapter TWO: The Man With The Twig-**

* * *

The dry stench of laundry powder lingered in the back of Harry's mouth, making him cough and clear his throat. He received a dirty look from his Aunt who hurried about the house, cleaning frantically and calling out to Dudley to make sure he wore his best clothes. They were expecting a visitor. Harry was thankful it wasn't his Uncles sister, Marge. Instead it was a new neighbour, or more over two new neighbours who had just moved in.

"Hurry up and finish that, boy. I need to set the table soon." Harry ignored the hissed words as best he could and reached up on tiptoes to start the washing machine. He was to stay in his cupboard for the evening while his Aunt and Uncle put on a façade for the visitors.

Sneaking out of the laundry room Harry wandered into the kitchen, where his Aunt was rushing to and fro like some frenzied hummingbird. Her hair was pulled back into a tight coil that was meant to be a bun, accentuating her sallow cheeks and pointed chin. When she spotted him in the doorway her eyes narrowed darkly.

"Well," she snapped in a crisp voice, Harry resisted the urge to flinch. "What do you want?" peeking up at the tall, waiflike woman the small boy nibbled on his lip nervously; summoning the courage to ask the question that tingled on his tongue.

"Can I have some dinner before I go to my cupboard?" the question was so quietly spoken that Petunia had to lean forward to catch it. As if to attest to the fact he was hungry Harry's tummy rumbled. The stern, pinched expression his Aunt was wearing told him that she wasn't pleased.

It surprised him when she went to the pantry and fetched a slice of white bread. "Here," she snipped nasally and literally threw the slice at him. Harry fumbled and caught the offering. He hadn't expected to be allowed anything. A moment later the doorbell sang out a chime of sound.

"Go," Petunia hissed through her teeth at Harry, flapping her arms to get him moving, "and don't make trouble." She warned. Harry ducked his head and hurried from the kitchen, his Aunt was on his heels, making for the front door. As soon as Harry had settled into his cupboard the latch clicked into place and he was aware that his Aunt had just locked him in. Probably as added insurance that he would behave.

Bunching up the scarce blankets he had Harry cuddled them tight, listening to the sound of the front door being opened and Petunia's loud exclaimed greeting.

"Ever a pleasure to meet a new neighbour or in this case two," She gushed and giggled at the top of her voice. Harry bit the inside of his cheek when a hesitant voice replied. It appeared that the man who spoke was put out by her enthusiasm.

"Yes," the deep but gentle voice replied, "a pleasure." And then, "may we come in?"

Harry scrambled to his knees and peeked out of the slats in the door, hoping to catch a glance at the visitors. His Aunt moved aside and motioned them to come in, chattering about some inane, pointless thing.

Harry caught sight of one of the men; he was dressed somewhat oddly in Harry's opinion. He wore his sandy hair about his cheeks, a few scars that made Harry's gape stood out near his chin and neck. A long, floor length coat was draped over the man's shoulders, and pointed boots were on his feet. Harry was more than a little curious and half wished his Aunt hadn't locked him away for the evening.

The second man trailed in at a slower pace, swaying his hips and looking around at the house with mild interest. He was dressed more normal, in a pair of jeans and a fitting sweater. Harry's small mouth dropped open even further when he saw the twig the man had in his back pocket. Why did he carry a twig around with him? It made him smile a little, thinking how wonderfully odd the two men were. He wondered if his Aunt would pick up on it. She hated anyone that differed from her opinion of _normal_.

"Supper is on its way," Harry heard his Aunt say cheerily as she disappeared into the kitchen. "My husband will be home any minute." The men followed her; both sharing a look that spoke volumes of what they thought of Petunia, Harry giggled and both men froze at the kitchen door having heard the noise.

Slapping his palm over his mouth Harry held his breath. He wasn't supposed to cause trouble. And letting two strangers find a boy locked in a cupboard under the stairs was considered causing trouble, Harry reflected.

There was a painful moment of awkward silence; both the men were looking around the small space as if they expected someone to magically appear before them. Harry kept as quiet as was possible.

"Mm, I must have imagined it." The taller man said, brushing his dark hair out of his face. Harry let his breath go, breathing a sigh of relief. Just before the men were fully out of earshot Harry caught some words that confused him. "…He must be here; we'll keep an eye out, Remus…"

Who were they talking about? Did they think someone else lived here? Harry was certain they weren't speaking of him. Many of the neighbours in Privet Drive barely knew he existed. Snuggling up to his blanket, Harry sat back, keeping his ears alert in case he caught snippets of conversation. His slice of bread was held in his fist, a crumpled piece of white.

* * *

Petunia Dursley was nothing like Sirius had expected. Her high, false voice grated on his nerves. He sat at the table, straight backed, hoping his face was organized into a mask of politeness. Remus was beside him and looked ever the perfect dinner guest with his hands folded neatly in his lap. Petunia was discussing her garden with him, rambling on about stupid things that Sirius couldn't feign interest in. Lucky for him Remus could.

He had felt the need to tell Petunia that she was nothing like Lily. But had refrained, knowing that if he did his cover would be blown. He was here for one reason and that was not to gripe to Petunia, no matter how tempting it might be.

"It wasn't until the next day I realized it had been _purposely_ poisoned!" Petunia exclaimed loudly, Sirius scowled even as Remus made the appropriate sympathy noises and shook his head as if he truly believed Petunia's poisoned plant was of the most serious and dire importance. It almost made Sirius crack smile when Remus fake-gasped as the tall woman continued to babble on with her story.

Resting back in the chair Sirius flicked his hair out of his eyes, thinking of how to go about searching for Harry and not letting on to his motives.

It had been one week since their escape from Azkaban; in that time they had hid under Glamour Charms, pretending to be any other ordinary wizard and not fugitives. They had set up a routine. While one would stay in their rented room at the Leaky Cauldron that other would seek information about Harry. By asking careful questions or by using certain tracking charms.

In the end it hadn't been the tracking charms or the questions to help them. It was Sirius's wandless magic that had managed to find Privet Drive. He had been absently messing about, attempting to tame a tracking spell without his wand. A moment later a glowing orb of light had appeared.

After many hours of both wizards trying to figure out how to use the orb Remus had cast a revealing spell and the orb danced and shimmered until it formed an image of a primed house. Number Four. It hadn't taken long to track it down the Muggle way.

Sirius was pulled from his thoughts by the scrape of a key; he turned lazily to watch down the small hall as the front door opened. A large man with a moustache too big for his face lumbered inside. Sweat coated his forehead and Sirius found himself sneering at the sight. He would have turned away from the man in disgust had it not been for the circumspect glance his beady eyes sent to the small cupboard under the stairs.

Body language spoke volumes, more than words ever could. Sirius had always had a knack for seeing someone's body language plain as day; he supposed it came from growing up in such a hostile environment. If he could be warned when his father was going to flip out, he could avoid it. And so he had trained his eyes to see the details of the body and not just the words.

By the set of the man's shoulders and the frown that pulled at his lips, Sirius could tell he was uncomfortable around the cupboard. Why that was so was a question he fully intended to find out.

Petunia brushed past him and greeted her husband with a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Vernon," she said softly, "our guests are here and supper will be not five minutes away." Her soothing voice said it all. Vernon was hot-headed. Sirius would have betted what little galleons he owned that had Remus and himself not been here, the man would have certainly grumbled about the day he had had.

As it was Vernon flicked his gaze over the pair of them and nodded stiffly in greeting. "Vernon Dursley," he gruffly offered. Remus was the first the respond. A polite smile was on his lips as he did so. Sirius wished he could pull off the grace Remus was using; it'd make the dinner much more bearable if he could in the very least pretend to enjoy it.

"Remus Lupin, and this is –"

"Sirius," he didn't offer his last name, that in itself was probably not the best move. Standing from his chair he outstretched his hand and offered it to Vernon. After a moment of staring Vernon accepted it and gave it a rough shake. It was meant to be an intimidating handshake, but Sirius countered it by crushing the fat hand painfully. Successfully dominating the shake.

Remus sent him a chastising look, which Sirius ignored easily. He wasn't about to pretend that he was smitten with the Dursely's. He was here for Harry. Once he had him he'd be gone. The dinner was just a prelude. The kidnapping was the main event.

* * *

Harry's tummy pained as it growled at him. The bread had not done anything good for him. After eating it he had become ten times hungrier. He wished his cupboard wasn't locked so he could sneak out and find some food. Even if it would have been futile to try. The thought that he could have had a chance at getting something more to eat was comforting.

Pouting his bottom lip out Harry curled into a ball, hoping to subdue the hunger pains. It didn't help, his stomach ached more, cramping into a tight knot.

The smell of roast lamb and the chatter of voices were loud and taunted him with the notion that he could never join in on something like that. His Aunt and Uncle had never allowed Harry to truly be a part of their family. Sure he was allowed to live in their house and eat their food. But the emotional support had never been there.

Dudley laughed rancorously from the kitchen and Harry frowned. He didn't know why it hurt so much that he wasn't allowed to have dinner with them. For six years he had been treated the same. But the child was at a tender age, an impressionable age that left him vulnerable. At seven years old, Harry considered himself quite grown up. He had to be. He didn't have anyone to look after him, so he did it himself.

When he was hurt, he would crawl into his cupboard and nurse his wounds, crying out his pain until he fell asleep. Never once had his Aunt attempted to comfort him. It seemed she went out of her way to make him feel worthless and stupid.

Heaving a deep breath, the small boy shifted onto his knees, peeking out from the slats. His breath stuck in his chest when he saw the man – Sirius he had introduced himself as – staring at him. _No_ , staring at the cupboard. There was no way he could see Harry.

Harry stayed still just in case and watched the man intently. He wasn't old. Maybe around his mid-twenties; however, there was a shadow that darkened his features. Harry couldn't quite place why, but something flip-flopped in his belly when Sirius narrowed his grey eyes, scrutinizing the cupboard as if it had wronged him somehow.

It wasn't until the other man touched Sirius's arm lightly to get his attention that Sirius turned away and focused on the dinner conversation. Harry chewed on his lower lip, puzzled at the man and at his own random desire to sneak out and meet the two visitors. He had never had that urge before. But then none of his Aunt's visitors had been quite as curious as these two.

Resting back now that the man wasn't staring anymore, Harry fiddled aimlessly with a small toy he had gotten from Dudley. It could hardly be called a toy, really. It was broken beyond repair and the paint that decorated the small, lion shaped toy was flaking off.

He bided his time by pretending his knees were two mountains and the little lion had to climb over them to find a cave to sleep in. The cave was a small nook in his blankets he had made. He kept quiet, not making a noise as he played.

Just as the little lion was about to be settled into his cave the deep voice of Sirius spoke up. "Petunia, mind if I use your restroom?" Harry's body stiffened and he listened carefully for his Aunt reply. The only toilet in the house was upstairs; Sirius would have to come past Harry's cupboard in order to reach it.

"Of course," said his Aunt, "upstairs to the left, you can't miss it." Harry heard the sound of a chair being pulled back, and sat up to peek out. Sirius left the kitchen swiftly, and what caught Harry's attention, he closed the door so that no one could see out. Why would he do that?

The reason why became apparent when the tall man drew nearer to his cupboard, not altering his path as to ascend the stairs. He was coming straight for Harry. And if Harry could see out – Sirius could see in.

Hoping that the light in the cupboard was dim enough not to allow much vision Harry pulled his blankets over his head and curled up, hoping to look like a pile of old blankets. If it hadn't been for the tuff of ebony hair peeking out, he would have succeeded.


End file.
